


Pup

by Snailcomicz



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bringing game mechanics in-universe is my JAM, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Further characters will be tagged as they appear, Gen, Going through parts of the story with a deeper perspective, Hurt/Comfort, I love my baby girl!!!!!!!, In this fic we love and stan Niall, Video Game Mechanics, Worldbuilding, so I don't flood the tags when it's not focused on them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailcomicz/pseuds/Snailcomicz
Summary: Five times Tiffany Cousland was called or called someone Pup, and one time someone unexpected called her Pup back.





	1. How did the castle fall?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although she misses out on a couple chances to talk to people, she would have the rest of her life to catch up with them-
> 
> Except she didn't.

Tiffany Cousland wiped sweat away from her eyes and belatedly realized she should have changed. The whole castle had been preparing for Arl Howe’s visit, and when her father had sent a servant to interrupt her training, so she really should have put two and two together and realized what that meant.

“-smell will be the same.” Her father finished the sentence she walked into with a laugh, before turning to her. “I’m sorry Pup, I didn’t see you there. Howe, you remember my daughter?”

“I see she’s become a lovely young woman.” The Arl raised an eyebrow at her armor and sweat, but he continued, “Pleased to see you again, my dear.”

“And I you, Arl Howe.” She said with a nod.

“My son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him along with me next time.” Tiffany smiled at him pleasantly, stopping herself from letting her lips trace through the possibilities of how she could respond as she thought.

Thomas had barely made it to her shoulder last time they met, and as much as their age gap truly bothered her, the last time they saw each other he admitted he was more interested in being a scholar than finding a wife. Which meant this was really about what _Howe_ wanted, unless Thomas has a wild change of heart, but saying that directly wouldn’t help her case. Trying to strike a balance between diplomatic and direct, she finally settled on, “Thomas is a few years younger than I am.”

“See what I contend with, Howe?” Her eyes snapped to her father, feeling a mild sting of betrayal, when she heard his tone had no hint of admonishment and he continued, “There’s no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart.” The smile that had never left her face became genuine again, as she realized his comment had mostly been to help Howe save face.

She bit her tongue at the slight jab Howe retorted at her being a warrior and mildly tuned out the continuation of the conversation, making the proper remarks when needed and reassuring her father she would look after the castle while the rest of her family was gone.

The Couslands had done many ‘unique’ things in Highever, and some of them were more commented on than others. One of them had been adopting her in the first place, wholeheartedly and fully taking her in as theirs, in spite of how her beige skin and narrow eyes looked nothing like the rest of them. Although she’d stopped really caring about what others thought about such unimportant things as her blood or her decision to be a warrior after a childhood ritual, the fierce defense of her brother and the ever present acceptance her family grew her with, it still was tiresome to hear others dance around choices she had made long ago and had no intention of revoking.

Her attention came back fully when the Grey Warden Duncan was brought in. He held a quietly commanding presence very similar to the one the senior soldiers in the room were wearing, but without posturing to the point he threatened their station. His armor blended with his clothing and somewhat obscured how much he was wearing, very appropriate for diplomacy, while also looking well made enough to fight in as is. He looked very strong, and given his two weapons sheathed at his back he seemed to be a dual wielder. She dismissed the passing thought of asking him to the training grounds either to teach her or for some light sparring.

“Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?”

“They defeated the Darkspawn long ago, yes?” Even with the Warden right there she instinctively checked her information against her father, although she chided herself internally when she realized that.

"Not permanantly, I fear." Duncan said.

“Without the their warning of the Darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we’d had the chance to react. Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens down south. I believe he has his eye on Ser Gilmore.”

“Oh, Ser Gilmore will love that.” Tiffany said, instantly recalling how he had traded stories of various heroes with her when they were little.

“If I might be so bold,” Duncan said, interrupting her unspoken train of thought, “I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate.”

That was a surprise. She knew that the noble gossips waggled their tongues about her, saying stuff like ‘the Highever’s daughter, being trained as a warrior, seems she has her mother’s disposition, even if not her blood’. Still, she had no idea how he could know she was a _good_ warrior, rather than just a decent one, or even a poor one who was simply being humored by her family.

Even more surprising was her father’s immediate response, walking in front of her and bodily blocking Duncan. “Honor though it may be, this is my daughter we’re talking about.”

Confusion made her knit her brow slightly. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t join them?”

“You did just finishing saying the Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend.” Arl Howe butted in, the sarcasm in his tone edging on judgement.

“I do not have so many children that I’ll gladly see them all off to battle.” Even from behind she could see the slight, uneasy shift in his shoulders as his tone darkened. “Unless you intend to invoke the Right to Conscription…?”

Duncan raised an appeasing hand to diffuse the conversation. “Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I won’t force the issue.”

Her father stopped openly bristling, although she could still see leftover tension between his shoulders and in his brow when he turned back to her. “Pup, can you ensure Duncan’s requests are seen to while I’m gone?”

“Of course.” She nodded and met his eyes briefly, to reassure him she meant it.

“In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him that he is to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me.”

“But I’d like to stay and talk to Duncan.” Her quiet presence at the background of noble matters had usually been welcome, given how much she picked up on while intentionally staying unobtrusive, but her father shook his head this time.

“You’ll have plenty of time after we’re gone. We must talk about battle plans to the south. Be a good lass and do what I’ve asked, we’ll talk soon.”

Well, she couldn’t let that unintentional language slip slide. “ _Lass_? I thought I was your fierce pup!”

That was what finally broke the final remnants of tension lingering in his demeanor. He barked out a laugh, hard and loud, before attempting to ruffle her hair. He never could succeed at actually mussing it up, as she always plaited and pinned her twin braided buns too tightly to endure fly-aways, but the contact was both firm and fond. “Yes you are, you absolute Mabari, now go fetch.”

“Grrrrr-” Tiffany snapped her teeth at her father twice, before a fierce smile overtook her fake snarl and she left to do as he asked.

* * *

After meeting up with Ser Gilmore, helping _good clever hardworking_ ol’ Rabbit clear his good name by talking out the rats from the cellar, getting doted on in the stern way only Nan could provide with the story of Hohaku the Mabari and meeting with her Mother’s friends, she finally found Fergus with his family.

Oren was excitedly babbling about war and 'swards' and ‘truthinessess’, filled with questions about absolutely everything as usual, while Oriana was fussing over Fergus about the dangers. After the siblings had exchanged a couple friendly jabs about how the travel would go versus being in charge of the castle, their father and mother came in as well and prepared to send him off.

“I’ll be praying for your safe return-”

“Watch over our husbands, sons, brothers and fathers-”

“Bring us wenches and ale-”

“What’s a wench?”

“Maker’s breath, it’s like living with small boys. Thank goodness I have a daughter-”

“Mother can handle herself. Always has-”

“Enough, enough.” Her father finally cut what would be their final family conversation short far too early. “Pup, you’ll want to get an early night. You’ve much to do tomorrow.”

Tiffany almost protested, and later she would desperately wish she had. At the time, without knowing what the night would hold, she rationalized that Oren was in the room, and if she fussed about going to bed he might as well. So instead of protesting, she gently grabbed Oren under his armpits, swung him onto her shoulders and started walking for the wing their bedrooms were in.

She internally tsked at herself on the way, remembering she had intended to talk to Dairren and Iona, check in on how Brother Aldous was doing the library, and even politely interrogate the Grey Warden on the particulars of the job the history books would never get into, but after considering the thought, she shrugged and let it go.

Like Father had said, there would be time tomorrow.

* * *

What a difference a few hours had made.

She had been fighting on instinct and a familiar knowledge of the layout of the castle, mind still reeling from the death, the smoke, even the discombobulating wake up call-

_His name was Percy, he hated the name Percival, he worked with the kennels and slept with the servants, which meant he ran halfway across the castle to her room, seeking protection as much as to warn, and she wasn’t fast enough, and it only took one arrow, and she had failed to protect him_

-she had been moving mostly to keep her mother moving in the haze of her thoughts. The Seawolf of Highever was sniping down foes with a bow, while her daughter had abandoned her shield, swapping in a dagger with her need to do damage and punch through the line outweighing her need for defense. The ones who had fallen-

_Nan on the floor, soldiers in the halls, Ser Gilmore insisting they leave and he stay, Mother’s friends in disarray, Oriana and Oren thrown onto their rug_

-couldn’t be thought about. They had to find Father and leave, because if _they_ left she could perhaps convince the living to leave _with_ them, abandon the castle, let Howe have it and regroup, they could rebound and fight if they were _alive_ , not-

_The painting._

_Mother had been the one to commission it, and although she tried to play it off casually, it had meant a great deal to her mother. Probably even more than it had grown to mean for her. Mother and Father surrounded Fergus and Tiffany in a hug, a style entirely unheard of for paintings, due to the hours it would take of posing. Hours spent trying not to giggle or get distracted with conversation or scream with boredom, not realizing until she was older how much the painting’s accurate portrayal of her face and body, of their grins, of their entire family dynamic, would mean._

_In flames._

-dead.

Her father was dying.

She had already tried a health potion, hands becoming the most bloodstained part of her body as she silently scuffled with him to gain access and stem the blood. Her mother was pleading with him, voice teary in a way her blunt and severe countenance almost never allowed. The potion did nothing, and any words that tried to get through her lips were lost in translation, silenced by the knowledge she didn’t want to accept. She didn’t even register when the Grey Warden had arrived, not realizing he was there until long after he had knelt down beside her. There was no place left in her brain to fully process everything. She only distantly recognized that Duncan wasn’t going to save her father, or mother, or even let her avenge those who died here, until he had her as a Grey Warden.

“Howe thinks he’ll use the chaos to… advance himself. Prove him wrong, Pup.” The words, slurred from his wounds and distant from the disconnected gap between her brain and her ears, still snapped her back into reality as she finally accepted this would be the last time she heard that pet name from his mouth.

“See that justice is done! Our family... Always does our duty first.” She has latched onto what Couslands did when she was younger, in response to an awareness that others didn’t fully consider her a Cousland, before her family thoroughly smothered the notion. She still held close the virtues that made them who they were, it was _unfair_ of her father to use it against her, to try to convince her to _go_ with the very virtues that made her who she _was_.

Her mother had turned back to the door, committed to protecting her Bryce to the last. Words died again as she looked to her mother, with pleas to not be the only Cousland, not tell Fergus alone, not make her leave everyone she had ever love behind, dying on her lips. The Seawolf would never leave her mate, and the pup they would be leaving behind couldn’t get a single word of protest out of her mouth against it.

The paltry scrap that did manage to get out, that wasn’t nearly enough for all the everything warring inside of her, was-

“I love you both, so much.”

Not enough, not to explain or convince, and her mother aimed her bow for the door as her father bled out. Words were forgotten as soon as they were said, muddling and drowning in her memories by the situation.

“Then… go, Pup.” Again, her father dragged he back with the nickname she had hoped to hear for years and years to come. “Warn your brother. And know we both love you so much. You do us proud.”

Duncan’s tone is all she catches, none of his words, and the feeling of him literally drag her to standing by her belt and pulling her with him is another surprise from the Grey Warden, but this time it’s not a happy one.

“Goodbye, darling.” Another nickname, this time her mother’s, that would never mean the same thing in another’s mouth.

Grief had turned her head inside out, scattering the intelligence and poise she had cultivated all her life and leaving her silent, gaping at the door, then the secret hall, then the castle, and finally the road behind her as they fled. If just one person had followed, made it out within her sight, she would have made Duncan stop and help. One indication of survivors, and she had would have thrown his rescue in his face and fought back, or at least demanded they bring whoever it was with them.

* * *

Nobody escaped Highever.

Rabbit was the only thing she felt grounding her when she finally turned away from the smoke trail, the last fading sign of what had happened. He pressed against her legs, making her carefully navigate each step with his slight lean, somehow impossibly knowing that what would be the greatest disturbance in any other situation was perhaps the only thing moving her moving forward.

Duncan was close, and the small signs in his posture that she actually processed told her he was almost hovering, probably trying to make sure she didn’t turn around, smart Warden.

Her hair was still down.

 _My Seawolf and my Pup, sharing hairstyles?_ The genuine delight in her father’s tone, mixed with the rare openly fond look her mother had sent at the imitation and the teasing of her brother had been what had convinced her to wear her hair in the twin braided buns almost every single day since she was _nine_ , in what had been _homage_.

With hands drenched in her father’s blood and a mission to find her brother, she braided her hair as tightly as her mother taught her, now in _memory_ of the family that pulled her in and loved their Pup so fiercely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Alright I really wanna make whatever kind of woman I want for my first playthough, I've seen what the Cousland family looks like if you play a white character but if I make her look exactly how I want and Asian-
> 
> Game: Still white as heck family
> 
> My brain, immediately latching onto adoption and the worldbuilding/character emotion beats therein: I can work with this  
> -  
> You can find some art of Tiffany I drew on [Tumblr](https://snailcomicz.tumblr.com/post/184928730180/me-alright-i-really-wanna-make-whatever-kind-of) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/658464)!


	2. How did they break out of the Fade?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The isolation is starting to get to her, but she's making more progress than Niall can really believe.
> 
> Is it going to be enough to save her companions?

“Why do you keep coming back to me?” Niall’s voice leaked exhaustion, even as he greeted her. “I’ve already told you everything I know, many times over.”

Tiffany glanced away after acknowledging him, as was her want. “I heard you say people forget, after being here a long time. I want to help you remember, if I can.”

“Why? Why bother? I-I’m fully aware I’m not getting out of this…” He shrugged feebly. “I don’t even have the energy to be afraid of it, anymore, even if I don’t want it to end like… This.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to end like this, Niall.” She put her hands on his shoulders, refusing to give up. The Maker might take her for a fool, but even after everything she had gone through, she wasn’t giving up when there was still a chance. “You’ve felt the islands shift and react to me learning other forms. I’m going to get us all out of this, alone if I have-”

“You don’t understand. We lose dreamers to the Fade all the time, us mages… It’s why I wanted us to stay far away from people who wouldn’t accept us, back before all this… Death and demons, so we couldn’t be interrupted when it could kill us." A muted, almost gruff laugh came from him. "You people will never trust us anyway.”

“I’m not giving up on you that easily.” She sighed and relented, putting her hands down and walking for the pedestal and the newly opened island. “I’ll be back.”

“Just... Let me know when you’ve finally given up...”

* * *

Large, spiky outgrowths dominated the island she hoped to find one of her companions on. Some were white as bone, while others looked almost plantlike in their redish tint. Nobody was in sight, but a large dome was blocking her view to where the pathway seemed to be leading. Trying to stay silent in case of an ambush, in spite of her armor, she crept forward. When she saw Leliana kneeling at the feet of a Chantry Mother, however, she discarded her attempt at approaching silently.

“Blessed art thou who exist in the sight of the Maker. Blessed art thou who seeks his forgiveness…” Leliana mumbled reverently as she jogged up.

“Thank the Maker you’re safe.” Tiffany said, instinctively sighing in relief.

“Blessed-- what?” Leliana looked up at her, eyes blank and glazed, as she stood up. “Who are you?”

“I beg you,” The Chantry Mother said, “Do not disturb the girl’s meditations.”

“Reverend mother, I do not know this person.” Hearing Leliana confidently deny her existence made her heart sink, and she chastised herself for assuming Leliana would break free of the spell as soon as she walked up. But then she froze, realizing a _worse_ problem than the dream alone.

The party had battled an demonically possessed Templar several floors below. As much as it had made her skin crawl she had tried to reason with the blasted thing, and killed the demon to try and save the Templar, but it hadn’t mattered. Killing the demon had not broken the Templar free, and-

The Templar had _died_ for his illusion.

Images of the Templar, still fighting after the demon had been killed, filled her mind as she scrambled to find a method to prevent that from happening again. If Tiffany had been able to break out of her dream, there must be a way to break Leliana out of hers as well.

“We’re friends, don’t you remember?” Tiffany said, fully aware Leliana wouldn’t yet. Tiffany had been willing to believe Duncan until the lies piled up, but implying a different reality might help guide her to the truth.

Leliana blinked at her in abject confusion. “I’m sorry but I-I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Please, do not vex her. She needs quiet and solitude, to calm her mind and heal her heart.”

Tiffany outright ignored the fake and made direct eye contact with Leliana, her need to keep Leliana’s attention outweighing her personal reluctance for continuous eye contact. “Leliana, listen to me, _please._ This isn’t real.”

“Isn’t real? I don’t understand.”

Tiffany had broken out of her dream when the inconsistencies became too much, how could she do the same for Leliana? She still though she was with the Chantry, but she had left it because of her vision, maybe-

“Don’t you remember why you left the cloister?”

Leliana’s eyes tried to focus, if only slightly. “I remember… There was a sign…”

“Leliana, we have discussed this… ‘sign’ of yours.” The demon wearing the Reverend Mother’s face tone dripped with judgment. “The Maker does not care to interfere in the affairs of mortals. This ‘vision’ was likely the work of demons.”

“Do not listen to her. Trust what you know.”

“The Maker cares for us. I believe he misses His wayward children, as much as we miss Him.” Leliana’s tone grew more steady, and she stood straighter. “My vision may not be _from_ Him, but it guides me to do what is right. My reverend mother knew this. I don’t know who _you_ are, but you are _not_ her.”

Tiffany barely contained a second relieved sigh, not knowing how much emotion would be safe to show. “We need to go Pup, as soon as you are ready.”

The nickname just slipped out. She needed to stay strong and help Leliana out of this, but grief slopped into her throat like hardening brick mortar and choked her before she could give more reasons to listen to her and not the fade.

“This is your home, your refuge. Do you truly wish to leave the comfort of this place behind?” Something intoxicating and warm seeped into the false mother’s tone as she held her hands out comfortingly. “Stay, and know peace.”

Leliana smiled. “There is no need. I carry the peace of the Chantry within my heart.”

The doppelganger's tone immediately darkened at being denied. “You are going nowhere, girl. I will not permit it.”

The false mother commanded too late, just as the false Duncan had tried to command her, and Leliana was looking at the doppelgänger with too much suspicion to be persuaded. The choking slop in Tiffany’s chest loosened enough for her to breathe.

“You can’t command her any longer, demon. She is free.” Tiffany said.

“No… She is ours, now and forever!” The demon shifted in an instant as Leliana lept back.

“She’s already broken free, you incompetent illusion!” Tiffany taunted at the Greater Shade’s face, trying to give Leliana an opportunity flee, only to hear a triumphant song burst forth as a frigid ice arrow nailed it in the neck.

Compared to all the other fighting Tiffany had done in the past -hour, day, forever-, this fight was done in a flash. With the support of another, it took barely a flurry of blades before the demon died. She immediately looked to her friend after sheathing her sword and dagger, not quite praying she had guessed right and Leliana had woken up enough before the demon attacked.

“Holy Maker…” Although Leliana had barely moved since she lept behind Tiffany, she was suddenly out of breath and terrified, the way dreams could still grip someone as they were waking up. “She… She was ah…”

“A demon, yes.” Tiffany didn’t see the point in sweetening her words past the truth, and was trying to avoid putting emotion in her tone to prevent herself from shifting into a mouse or setting herself aflame while her friend was in such a precarious spot.

“Ugh…” Leliana rubbed her face, sounding distraught. “My head feels heavy, like I have just woken up from a terrible nightmare.”

She looked back to Tiffany, eyes still a little glazed but focused on her. “I believe we had… Some task to accomplish.”

Something light started curling up around her, like when Tiffany’s battle vision showed someone maintaining a specific stance, but Leliana had not started doing anything. “Leliana?”

“Let us be on our way--” She noticed it too, just as Tiffany moved to grab her. “Wait… What is happening to me?”

And she was gone. Thoughts of maintaining composure fled as Tiffany scanned the area with all her senses.

“Leliana! _Leliana!_ ”

That blasted altar was still there, but as surely as her senses told her the demon was gone they told her Leliana had left as well. She breathed through her nose in the way that she only distantly felt, trying to let go of the panic before it overwhelmed her. She had made good progress with the four islands, and Leliana had fought with her, not against her. That had to be good news, if Leliana had left-

Leliana said it was like waking up from a nightmare, maybe she had literally woken up.

Tiffany allowed herself that relieved sigh she had suppressed earlier, and even let her head flop back and tension to slowly leave her shoulders. She had not _lost_ Leliana, she had made _progress_. Even if the few seconds with another person felt almost painful to leave behind, she refocused and turned around. That sort of thing would be exactly how the demon got people, and she adamantly refused to fall for it with everyone else counting on her.

* * *

High walls surrounded her this time, crafting another path in the warped Fade. An unnatural dappled texture the crumbly burnt red of clay covered almost thorny outgrowths from the walls. The plants lightly scattered around were brownish red as well, making the Lyrium deposit pop out even harsher. Smoke from a campfire wisped away from a pair of people, with a pot of something over the fire. Her ears picked up on muted conversation as she jogged forward, and the quiet joy of hearing _anyone_ with an excited timber of voice was only outweighed by the relief when she recognized the voice.

“Alistair!”

“Hey, it’s great to see you again!” Alistair grinned wide at her, completely oblivious to how little time pas- how little time had _hopefully_ passed since they last saw each other, trapped in whatever false history the demon had pinned him with.  “I was just thinking about you… Isn't that a marvelous coincidence?”

Right, she’d have to get him out as well, but she had done this before. She could do it again.

“This is my sister, Goldanna. These are her children, and there’s more of them around here somewhere.” He huffed out a pleased laugh, with an entirely relaxed grin. “We’re one big happy family, at long last.”

She glanced around, marking where the ‘children’ were, before realizing this didn’t mesh with the history she knew, much less the current reality. Alistair had been willing to give her a good overview of his life story on that first night after they left Flemeth’s, which was remarkably kind of him considering how tightly everyone else, including her, had held parts of their past. Regardless, being raised in the Chantry until Duncan saved him through conscription didn’t blend with a close relationship with a sister. Which wasn’t any of her business, but it forced her to realize she was gaining a look past people’s privacy that they hadn’t given her themselves, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It felt wrong, and invasive, and-

She was letting herself get distracted. She needed to get him out of this, unintentionally invading privacy or no. Started with an indirect approach, she said, “You seem very… Content.”

“I am!” He raised his hands above his head in exuberance. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Isn’t that strange? Heh, I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it didn’t,”

_Yes, it did._

“This does.”

_No, it does not._

“I’m overjoyed to have my little brother back.” ‘Goldanna’ interjected. “I’ll never let him out of my sight again!”

With Leliana, she had been flailing around in the dark and hoping there was any solution. Now that she knew she could ‘wake people up’, so to speak, she was willing to experiment. Separating the two would give her an even greater chance of convincing him, even though the demon wouldn’t likely let him slip from it’s grasp. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained...

“May I borrow him for a second? We have business elsewhere.”

“I… don’t think I’ll be coming.” Alistair was the one who responded, and his emotional candor worried her. His face screwed up and his voice went very small and frightened, halting several times over the next sentence. “I don’t want spend my life fighting, only to end up dead in a pit along with rotting Darkspawn corpses.”

“Well, Alistair,” The fake said, voice almost taunting in it’s low sweetness, “Is your friend staying for supper?”

“Say you’ll stay!” He rebounded artificially quickly, clapping his hands in delight. “Goldanna’s a great cook. Maybe she’ll make her mince pie. You can, can’t you?”

Alistair had been looking at Tiffany when he said it, but the doppelganger responded, “Of course, dear brother. Anything for you.”

Tiffany glared at the false sister, every nerve in her body flooding with quiet outrage, as because this? This was _nothing_ like what actually having an actual sibling was like. This undisguised adoration would have been immediately greeted with a question if she was feeling ill if she had acted like this with Fergus, and the only time she had ever called him her dear _anything_ was when she was outright making fun of him for his crush on his future wife. Real siblings wrestled each other to show affection, argued constantly because they could tell the moment an argument went too far, and did nice things for each other with the clear expectation that the favor would be returned eventually, not because they _worshiped_ the ground the other sibling walked on. And Alistair was _eating it up,_ like he didn’t know what having a sibling actually felt like.

“We have to get you away from her, before this gets worse.” She should have said that more diplomatically, eased into the idea, been more convincing, but her revulsion at Alistair being lied to with such a flimsy premise had loosened her tongue before she had shaped her response.

“You’re acting really strangely.” He drawled, upset and squinting at her.

She was losing him, she had to confront the lie _now-_

“Think about this, and think about how you got here.” He tried to shift back, shift and deflect like he had when things had gotten emotional before, so made direct eye contact and begged him, “Think _carefully,_ Pup.”

Thinking about her brother had probably primed the nickname this time, or the fact she had said it to Leliana earlier, or maybe the need to differentiate between this false shade and the real deal was what prompted the slip, but even as she’d said it mere -minutes, days, years, surely it was minutes- ago it still hurt.

He was frustrated and pouty, but he said, “All right, if it makes you happy. I...” He looked up and away in the way people did when they tried to remember something.

She saw the exact moment the storyline in his head jammed against reality in the barest shift in his posture, when eyes squinted just slightly.

“It’s a little fuzzy.” He shook his head, eyes trying to focus from the glazed over look. “That’s strange.”

“Alistair,” The demon wearing his sister interrupted, “Come and have some tea.”

Tiffany maintained eye contact while he glanced to the fake, trying to give him some grounding while he wrestled with the truth and the story he wanted to believe.

“No…” For a single, terrifying second she thought he was talking to her before he looked to the sky again, away from the doppelgänger, and tried to focus his eyes once more. “Wait… I remember a… Tower…”

She knew she had him back, then, even if he hadn’t fully fought off the storyline, because he was sharper than he gave himself credit for. If she and Leliana had fought off the dream with that look on their faces, he could do the same.

His tone turned wobbly and frightened as he looked back down at her. “The Circle… It was under attack… There were _demons_ … that’s all I really remember.”

“The sloth demon, do you remember that?.”

“A-are you saying… This is ah-a dream?” She hadn’t dared called it a dream _once,_ but he was connecting the dots himself just fine without her help. “But it feels so real…”

“Of course it’s real.” The demon was still wearing Goldana’s voice, but it slipped into almost the exact same lecturing tone the other demon had coined when Leliana had started questioning things. “Now wash up for supper and I-”

“Something doesn’t feel quite right here.” He shifted towards her, and away from the demon. “I... think I have to go.”

She let the direct eye contact drop, trusting he was thinking too critically to fall back into the haze. “Come with me then.”

“No!” They both jumped at the gravelly tone shift, raw anger flowing through the doppelganger's voice. “He is ours, and I’d rather see him dead than free!”

“Your sibling acting was terrible, demon! If it was in a book, I’d call the writer a hack!” Tiffany taunted, entirely forgetting she had given Alistair the job of protection and defense long ago, and trying to draw their attackers attention away from him. 'Goldanna's children’ lost their forms entirely, skin melting into skeletons in a way that would no doubt be haunting her normal nightmares for the next several sleeps, and unsheathing hidden weapons. The two Alistair had noted came around the side, but the others he had said were ‘around’ came from the back.

What the skeletons had had in numbers, they lacked in sheer health as the two of them cut them down. Tiffany had refocused Alistair’s attention on the pair of archers as she took down Goldanna, remembering how jarring it had been to see Duncan dead on the ground after she had defended herself. Whirling around to help him finish off the last one brought forth another bash from his shield and riposte from her blades, and the battlefield stood still.

“G-Goldanna?” His shoulders slumped as he stared at his false sister’s ‘corpse’, leaving Tiffany’s efforts to hide it from him for naught. “I can’t believe it. How did I not see this earlier?”

“You’re in the Fade, which is not like the real world.” She said, walking to his side. “It got to me as well.”

“Yes…” He sprang back to normal with a cough, sheepishly babbling, “Uh, well. Try not to tell the others how easily fooled I was. Are we going now?”

The same inconsistent light started surrounding him, and he suddenly sounded small and frightened all over again. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Alistair, just hold on, I think you’re waking-”

“What’s happening to me?” He covered his ears against nothing. “Hey…”

She would have wished to leave it in a better place than that, but it would have to do. This time she didn’t pause before returning to the pedestal.

She still had one more dream to go, and since she had refused to leave her Mabari Rabbit behind when she picked up Wynne, she wasn’t sure which of the two would be waiting on the other side.

* * *

Bodies surrounded the woman she barely knew. Tiffany didn't even process what the Fade looked like this time, jogging forward as soon as she saw the despair Wynne was surrounded by. In the few seconds she had to scan the immediate area before she reached Wynne, she saw they were all wearing similar robes to Niall but blue instead of yellow. They looked as young as the group Wynne had been protecting at the bottom of the Tower.

“Maker forgive me. I failed them all.” Wynne’s tone was brittle, scarily similar to Niall’s, and to hers in the days of travel after Highever fell. “They died and I did not stop it.”

“But they’re not dead yet. The Circle can still be saved.” It was a paltry opening gambit, too dismissive of what was in front of the two of them for her liking, but after several seconds of consideration it was the best one she had.

“What about all this?” Wynne looked at her, eyes glaring in furious grief. “How can you say that when you are faced… With this? Death. Can you _not_ see it? It’s all around us.”

Mages were used to the Fade and it’s tricks, so she tried the direct route once more. “You’re in the Fade. This is a dream.”

“Why was I spared, if not to help them?” Wynne outright ignored her, turning back to the fake bodies. “What use is my life, now that I have failed in the task that was given me? Leave me to my grief. I shall bury their bones, scatter their ashes to the four winds, and mourn their passing ‘till I too am _dead_.”

“You have to fight this feeling, Pup, whatever it is.” She used the nickname intentionally this time, even as it pulled at her chest and her manners screamed at calling her senior something so informal, simply because it had worked before.

It did _not_ work here, and Wynne snapped at her. “You’re blatant disregard for the souls of the dead strikes me as utterly inappropriate.”

She took several seconds to reevaluate her words, mouthing through the possibilities as Wynne glared daggers at her. Leliana and Alistair came back when they had been reminded of what had happened, but she hadn’t known Wynne long enough to pull on a particularly grounding memory like she did with Leliana. As much as they had experienced together would have to do.

“Please think about what you’re doing here and why.”

“I do not know what you are trying to tell me. Why must you make this more painful?” She faced Tiffany again, pointing a finger accusingly. “And where were you when this happened? I trusted you as an _ally,_ and you were _nowhere_ to be found.”

There was the truth, the inconsistency Tiffany could use. “Isn’t that proof enough something isn’t right?”

“What sort of proof?”

“Think back. Do you recall when I- abandoned you, to this?” The words stung on her tongue, her actual past failures suddenly reminding her of their presence, but she shook them off with the truth the same way she hoped Wynne would be able to.

“We were entering into the tower… And then I remember that there was all this death about me… There was no sign of you, none at all. It was just me… and all this. I… ” Her tone grew stronger, more critical of the world around her. “I don’t remember any of them _dying._ I just remember them _dead._ Why… Why wouldn’t I remember them dying?”

“It’s a trick, designed to keep you here in your misery.” Tiffany said, mentally preparing for the battle that would inevitably start.

“Something in your speech rings true, but it feels as if my mind is… Clouded over.” Wynne was entirely unaware of how much progress she had already made, but she had figured out something was warping her perceptions, which was more than Tiffany could have said for herself when she fought Duncan. “Perhaps some time away from this place will help me think clearly.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Where was that blasted demon-

One of the mages stood up and Tiffany silently bared her teeth at it, while Wynne stared in shock. “Don’t leave us Wynne, we don’t want to be alone!”

“Holy Maker!” Wynne stumbled back, almost tripping on the ‘dead’ apprentice behind her. “Stay away, foul creature!”

“We have to defeat them to leave, Wynne.” Tiffany said, unwilling to grab her weapons until she was sure Wynne would fight on her side.

“Stay, Wynne.” The doppelganger’s tone was plaintive and discouraging. “Sleep soundly in the comforting embrace of the earth. Do not fight it. You belong here, with us.”

“N-No. Not yet.” Wynne’s tone was shaken, but she was resisting admirably. “My work is not yet done… It is not my time, yet.”

“Come… Come away to your rest.”

“Behind me-” Tiffany whipped her head back to the newly ‘awakened’ mages and taunted loudly as Wynne took her position, “Disgusting, all of you! Thinking you could best Wynne by using her charges was stupid, you can't even play dead bodies convincingly!”

The mages fell quicker than any of the demons had before. Tiffany couldn’t help idly wondering if it was due to them pretending to be dead too effectively, or pretending to be mages facing blades to well, before she turned back to her newest companion.

“Is it over?” Raw relief overtook Wynne as she sagged. “Thank the Maker for you.”

“Wynne.” If Tiffany was going to say something, she needed to say it now. “You’re waking up, I believe, find Irving and get him downstairs-”

“Wait… What’s happening?” The light overwhelmed Wynne too, even as she reached out for Tiffany in panic. “Where are you going?”

“It’ll be alright.” She said to the now vacant air. One more demon, behind Niall and through the door she could not enter at first, and she could break the seal. She managed to still have energy to spare, as her successes had given her emotional momentum, even with the ticking clock hanging over her head. She had promised Niall she’d do this, alone if she had to, and she wasn’t going to break that promise now.

* * *

Although Tiffany made note of the Lyrium deposits around the room, she spared no time running at the Sloth Demon.

“What do we have here? A rebellious minion? An escaped slave?” The Sloth Demon laughed, cold and emotionless, and she grit her teeth as she unsheathed her weapons. “My, my… You do have some gall. But playtime is over. You all have to go back now.”

_All?_

“Oh! Here I am! And there you are!” She tilted her head slightly and caught three figures behind her, where there had been none before, and a fierce grin overtook her face when she recognized them. Alistair continued, “You just disappeared. Well, no matter.”

Leliana’s eyes were clear again, and her tone conveyed her usual level of positively minded calculation. “You tried to break us apart. You lead us from each other because you fear us, do you not?”

“You will not hold us, demon.” Wynne said, steady and furious, as Tiffany turned back to the demon. “We found each other in this place, and you _cannot_ stand against us!”

“If you go back quietly, I’ll do better this time.” The demon said, trying to regain control of the situation he somehow was not aware he had already lost. “I’ll make you much happier.”

“I’ll make my own happiness, thank you.” Tiffany replied, teeth bared in both snarl and grin.

“Can’t you think about someone other than yourself?” The demon mimicked a wounded tone, barely convincing in his own selfishness. “I’m hurt, so very, very hurt.”

“Sorry, but I’d rather just be rid of your evil right now.”

“You wish to battle me?” His voice rang with disbelief, before his tone shifted darker. “So be it… You will learn to bow to your betters, _mortal._ ”

She let the demon shift, quickly evaluating the ogre in front of them before letting go of her form. Pulling on the strength of the earth and the imposing height of the bounded magical rock, she became a golem and slammed into his side. One against four was already poor odds for the demon, but one orge against three clever humans and a golem? Almost child’s play. Focusing the demon’s attention on her, she let him knock her around as the others quickly coordinated around her and took it to task.

The demon screamed in rage, warping smaller and angrier, and she relaxed her form from the steadying strength of the golem. Refocusing on the injustices the world had seen fit to set on her shoulders, the cruel things this demon had hoisted upon her friends and then ripped away, the other trapped and lost dreamers, Niall and his friends work almost undone by this _wretched demon,_ she pulled the burning swords out from her sides where her normal blades did not reside and screamed a battle cry as flames overtook her form. Entirely immune from his attacks, this time she focused on using her swords, knowing this form’s spells would be useless against another flaming attacker. Leliana’s ice arrows were even more useful here, and Wynne kept the others alive when the demon did swipe at them.

The demon sent an explosion outwards, throwing everyone back, and regained the form he had used when they first encountered him outside the Fade. Getting back up, she cooled her temper by refocusing her attention again, shifting her mind to the strategies she wanted her allies to use. Pulling distant from the individual slashes of the battle to the greater scheme of things she felt herself grow taller, robes appearing out of thin air, and she quickly directed the others as she shifted. She cast a precautionary regeneration spell on Wynne, while simultaneously directing the older woman to heal the entire group at once. Letting Alistair take the brunt of the blows this time she froze the demon the same way Morrigan had in battles outside the Tower, before pulling on the form’s greatest spell and slamming an invisible prison around the demon.

Another explosion, yet another form, and Tiffany tried to keep the demon's focus on her as the others regained their footing. Opting to remain in this form she sent another spell of ice in his direction, letting Leliana’s song pair with Wynne’s spell to rejuvenate her. The demon shifted its attacks, electing to ignore her entirely and focusing all his attacks on Alistair. She tried to keep it frozen in place while Alistair used his shield and held firm, before the demon spread his arms and shrieked.

“No more games!” This explosion was unexpectedly strong, knocking even her Spirit form off her feet. Now wearing the same empowered form she was, his eyes glared malice from under his helm. “Face me and die!”

Leliana was upright, sniping from a distance with her bow, and Alistair and Wynne were already getting back up. Considering how many islands the Sloth Demon had protected itself with, it was not unreasonable to assume this was it’s last defense, and she might even wake up instantaneously after slaughtering it. The mouse, who she had been too late to save, had talked about how remaining in a form for too long could trap you in it. Thanking the forms of the Fade that had been given to her she relaxed one last time, getting up on her own two feet.

“Hear me, you awful _beast._ I truly needed the assistance of those you _subjugated_ to lead me to you. But just watch this _mere mortal_ defeat you in her own form!”

Her taunt was more effective than it ever had been before, her personalized insult directed at the vanity of the demon overpowering it's strategic senses. Alistair slammed into the demon with his shield as Wynne boosted his strength, and Leliana pinned the demon with normal arrows just in time for Tiffany to release a flurry of strikes.

Using her general attacks as she regained control of her breath she glanced at her party, checking for unaccounted for injuries and any instability. Alistair had taken the demon’s attention, easily withstanding as many attacks as the demon threw at him and consistently striking back. Wynne was casting spells, easily falling into the party’s fighting dynamic and sending out damage every second she was not focused on keeping them alive. Leliana’s song, which had been missing from her ears for -hours, days, weeks, oh don't exaggerate- _hours_ , came to her ears, already familiar and invigorating. She had grabbed fire arrows after the rage demon form burnt out, and was carefully firing so as not to singe the two warriors holding the line.

Maker’s _breath,_ she had missed them.

The demon keened in pain, and she turned back in time to watch Alistair finish it off, the flourish in his blade sweep covered by Leliana’s quick archery. She held her breath for one second, two, but sheathed her weapons in an instant when a familiar presence came onto the field the same way she had arrived.

“You defeated the demon! I never thought… I never expected you to free yourself, to free us both.” Niall’s voice was lighter as she had ever heard it before, despair only an aftertone compared to the overwhelming chord it had been before. “When you return… Take the Litany of Andralla from my… Body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic.”

“Aren’t you coming to help?” She replied, attempting to mask her underlying dread. It was a pretty pathetic ruse, artificial cheer against something she had already started suspecting, but she didn’t want her suspicions to bear fruit.

“I cannot go with you. I have been in here far too long. For you it will have been an afternoon’s nap. Your body won’t have wasted away in the real world while your spirit lay in the hands of a demon.”

“You think you’re going to die?”

His voice grew soft, even in it’s blunted practicality. “Every minute I was here, the Sloth demon was feeding off me, using my life to fuel the nightmares of this realm. There is so little of ‘me’ left. I was never meant to save the circle, or… Survive it’s troubles. I am dying. It is as simple as that.”

The body at the Sloth Demon’s feet. It had almost been laid out like a prize, like it meant something to the blasted thing, but she had kept hoping she had misseen who it was.

“I’m sorry I could not have saved us earlier. If _anyone_ had done something to help faster, you and your friends were on the right track. I wish your relief had come before you died.” It’s nothing compared to the weight of everything, the pain he’s already endured and the people she’s already failed, but all she has for him is, “I’m so sorry.”

“I do not fear what may come.” She met his eyes in shock, and he raised his weary eyebrows in what almost looked like acceptance. “They say we return to the Maker, in death, and that isn’t such a terrible thing. My only regret is that I could not save the circle. But you… You can. Take my the Litany off my…”

He swallowed, still stumbling over the words, “My body, when you return. It is important!”

He didn’t know how much he was asking of her, telling her to leave him like this. Sharp, harsh grief recoiled in her gut at the thought of abandoning anyone like this, abandoning anyone ever again after Highever. “What about you?” is all she manages to choke out.

“I can rest easy, knowing you will save the Circle.” He believed in her, after all the despair the Demon brought and the Templar had earned, he believed in her promise. “I’m not… A hero. Perhaps trying to be one was foolish…”

So much in the Fade had brought her back to her family, the isolation making her think about it more than she had let herself in the past and the slip of the nickname bringing the raw emotion to the forefront in a way she would have to deal with in the days to come, so it only seems fitting to use one of Brother Aldous’s quotes of what made a Cousland in response.

“Ordinary people can do great things, when they have to.”

“Dark times, greater acts of heroism, eh?” He smiled, still wan and exhausted but genuine. “You may be right. Before I was taken to the Circle, my mother said I was meant for greatness, that I would be more than my ancestors could have ever dreamed…”

His voice became just a shade smaller. “I hope I haven’t disappointed her.”

The afterimage of her own mother, calling her ‘Darling’ the last time with her bow aimed at the failing door feels like it slams into her, unbidden and unwanted. She knew she analyzed every _single_ one of her choices against what her parents would have told her in the few days since her escape.

The empathy created in sharing the fear of disappointing someone you will never see again rages outright war with her need to stay presentable, not for fear of the demon anymore, but to lead those behind her without exposing herself to being stabbed in the back the way Howe did such a short time ago.

“You have done no such thing, Niall.” Is the best she can manage in the moment.

“It is time for us both to be on our way. Remember the Litany, it is important.” She tried to protest, either with words or by touching his arm, but the air felt weighted in a distressingly familiar way and she could not breathe through the knot in her chest.

“Thank you and goodbye… Friend.”

* * *

She wakes up standing. The body of the demon fell limp in front of her, but the victory felt more hollow than escaping a demon’s possession should. Rabbit yawned and stretched, apparently having fallen under the spell without gaining access to his own island. Right next to the blasted demon husk is where he lay. Niall’s body was cold when she knelt down, but the scroll is easy enough to find.

“Is this what we’re looking for?” She asked Wynne, not so much as glancing at the runes before handing the paper off. Before Wynne can respond Tiffany scooped the dead body off the floor, just long enough to move Niall to a sitting position against the wall, away from the clusters of pustules and unnatural outgrowths around the demon.

“Yes. This is the Litany.” Wynne’s voice carried sadness as Tiffany closed his eyes.

They really needed to leave. Tiffany had surely been pushing her luck already, having spent so much time lost in the stupid puzzles of the Fade and saving her friends before breaking the final seal, but she had given all her companions something of hers. He had called her friend. He deserved to be given the same thing she had given them, even if it was too late.

“Thank you, Pup.” Her voice was gruff and husky, but she continued without clearing her throat, “You did not know reinforcements were coming, but you held on just long enough. Rest in the knowledge that you succeeded, as I _will_ take it from here.”

Wynne wiped her eyes as Tiffany stood up, and as Alistair cleared his throat thickly Leliana tried to say something soft and comforting, but suddenly the vulnerability was too much for her to address in the moment. She avoided their gazes and moved for the door, pushing away the softness she had just openly shown.

“If Niall’s sacrifice is not going to be in vain, we need to get Irving back to the bottom of the tower, _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those trying to keep track of in-game notes:
> 
> [Extra dog slot mod is best mod](https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonage/mods/664/). I literally downloaded it during the Tower sequence, and since in-universe it makes sense to keep your Mabari with you if you brought him past the barred doors of the Tower in the first place, it was too good worldbuilding to pass up. Rabbit for best boi.
> 
> The Circle was the first area I cleared, and my reasoning was if the Brother who knew where the ashes was stored the information -anywhere-, it would be with the Circle. Obviously he didn't, but I'm still glad I tried it first because I CLEARLY have so many feelings about the Tower.
> 
> If you have a game script to compare all my dialogue to, firstly PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR TRANSCRIPTS FOR DAYS NOW, but secondly you may notice some minor changes. I promise I've made -almost- all of them intentionally, to make character voices more distinct or to avoid reusing a word in a way that interrupts reading flow. I -don't- promise that mistakes haven't slipped through once or twice though, so please forgive any minor issues.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://snailcomicz.tumblr.com/) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/snailcomicz)


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